


Do you want to watch yourself burn ?

by aimelle



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:12:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimelle/pseuds/aimelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan dreams of Kavinsky and Kavinsky's dead — so the words and the blood and the fire don't matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life isn’t just sex and drugs and cars.

_Mine is._

 

Kavinsky was dead.

 

It didn’t seem to matter. Gansey’d said _he_ hadn't mattered, even while he was alive. No one ever talked about it. Ronan hadn’t been invited to any funeral. (Not that he’d expected to be, but he hadn’t even heard of any funeral taking place. Had there _been_ a funeral ?) It felt as if he’d been denied some sort of closure.

 

He’d only been a boy, and he was dead.

 

In Ronan’s dreams, memories sometimes replayed themselves, with small and bigger changes, and he wasn’t sure he could still tell what had happened from what had not. There was a boy who wasn’t dead and behaved in a strange yet familiar way. He was terrified he might bring that Kavinsky ersatz back with him someday.

 

In the dream, Kavinsky hated him.

_(Like his dragon had hated, burning through him, ripping everything apart, recklessly throwing himself in a battle against all that dared to live.)_

He wears a white tank top that is stained with blood and his clenched fists make his knuckles so white every scar and scab and open scratch is clearly visible and he is coming at Ronan fast, shouting, and he’s going to break him with his bare hands, Ronan knows. He says :

“And you didn’t care, did you ? not at all, not ever, and you only used me — did you think it would be alright, Lynch ? did you think I’d let you take whatever you needed from me and then go back to Dick Gansey or whoever when you were done ? did you take me for a child, only a jealous child who would throw a tantrum and forget about it all ? I am no child. I could have killed you, you know — you could have died, and I’d have made another — I can still kill you, Lynch.”

And Kavinsky’s hands are on Ronan’s bare chest and his nails are digging into his rib cage and they are going deeper and deeper and it hurts and Ronan screams but does not fight as the boy grabs his bones and pulls them out, and the sound of them breaking is something disgusting and terrifying and his blood is all over Kavinsky’s face and clothes and now he’s taken his beating heart out and his teeth flash briefly before he bites —

 

_I’m going to eat you alive, man._

 

His glasses are resting on the top of his head and there is fire in his eyes when he leans out the driver’s window, and he asks : “Do you wanna go for a ride ?” but he doesn’t mean it because he knows Ronan will say no, because Ronan knows he’ll say no, and so he says : “No.” So he gets out of the car and he asks : “Do you want to try something fun ?” but Ronan’s interest in Kavinsky’s brand of fun is gone and he knows it, because Ronan knows it, and Ronan says : “No.”

Then Kavinsky opens the Mitsubishi’s trunk and asks : “Do you want to watch yourself burn ?” and he smiles, and Ronan is tied up to the car and covered in gasoline (and it stinks) and Kavinsky lights a match, and then the pain is agonizing and Ronan doesn’t think his senses could register anything more, but there is a mouth on his neck and it smells of charred meat and his throat is being ripped apart by Kavinsky’s teeth.

 

_Dying is just a boring side effect._

 

That night Ronan threw up not a second after he woke up, and was relieved not to find a burnt corpse in his bed. The memory of the smell stayed with him for hours.

 

They lean against the Mitsubishi’s hood and Kavinsky says nothing, which is unusual, but then this boy is only a forgery, born out of Ronan’s indistinct guilt, the vague remorse he feels for having chosen to despise — the easier path, but understanding is off the table once you start kidnapping people’s brothers — but perhaps there had been a time when he could have been careful.

Ronan says : “This is not what I w—”

“I tried, Lynch,” Kavinsky snarls. “I tried and I tried and I tried and I played nice, and I asked and I asked and I asked, when I could have taken, but I didn’t — I fucking didn’t !”

 _You almost did, though_ , Ronan thinks, _and playing “nice” doesn’t change who you are_. He says : “I am not a cure for whatever your disease is.”

Kavinsky’s eyes flash with anger but he only grabs Ronan’s face to whisper : “I was never looking for a cure.” And : “But didn’t you see ? no, you saw, and you ignored it all — you saw me care and you spat in my face — don’t you understand ? I could have taken what I wanted anytime, anytime, and I didn’t ! fuck — I could have, and I still can.”

And so he effortlessly bends Ronan over the Mitsubishi, and he does.

 

_There’s only with me or against me._

 

In the dream, Kavinsky loved him.

_(Loved him as he loathed himself, his whole being thrown onto the pyre, madly running through the fire to see how fast he’d burn up.)_

 

Kavinsky’s sprawled out beside Ronan and he’s drunk and he smiles and he says :

“I wish you’d stayed, Lynch, I don’t get why you didn’t, what is there — what is there in the world we couldn’t have dreamed up ? We could have watched it all burn, and built it anew.” A pause. “You know, fighting all the time is fucking exhausting. Hey, is it gay if I want to suck your cock ?”

 

_Just us._

 

There is a party going on, and there is music and people (and they’re young and alive) and burning cars and Kavinsky, glowing in the midst of it, his fire brighter than all. Ronan is burning up as well and his body is filled with want, and he hears Kavinsky shouting at him over all the noise : “So, how are you gonna behave without Dicky around ?”

Later on they are wasted and Kavinsky’s all over his personal space, Kavinsky and his boner, aggressively pressed against Ronan’s thigh, and there is anger too, and Ronan thinks, _what would it matter if I gave in in the dream, what would it matter now, it wouldn’t mean anything, it wouldn’t change anything_. And Kavinsky says : “Are you going to _do_ anything or will you just stand there forever, jesus fuck I can’t try much harder Lynch, do you take me for a toy ? is this a game to you ? are you testing yourself ? are you pleased ? Do I have to —”

“Okay,” Ronan says, and slowly, like he would never have allowed himself to, like he would never have dared to, or wanted to in the waking world, he cups Kavinsky’s face in his hands (and the boy’s eyes go wide and wild) and kisses him, and it sends a thrill through his spine and he feels fucking stupid but it is good and Kavinsky’s giving in too, and the noise of the party has died down and Ronan wonders, _would it feel that way if it had consequences_ , and Kavinsky bites on his tongue hard, hard enough to cut it neatly.

“I’m not a fucking child,” Kavinsky states while Ronan chokes on his own blood.

 

_It was never going to be you and me._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weak so I wrote a follow-up thing to the first thing, so there.

These days Ronan went to sleep wondering whether or not Kavinsky would be waiting for him there, and whether he would die again or how, and how much it would hurt ; and he was afraid of falling asleep but he also looked forward to it, somehow, which probably wasn’t _healthy_ but who cared, and was there a healthy way of sleeping with ghosts.

 

The dream is quiet and Kavinsky is just standing there and he’s looking at him and he seems terribly alive and real and out of place, with a smile on his lips and in his eyes, all feigned nonchalance and easy charm.

Ronan walks up to him and the closer he gets the brighter Kavinsky’s gaze is, and he says : “So what’s up, Lynch ?” and his voice is an invitation and a dare and _warm_ , like his hands casually resting on Ronan’s hips and his breath _(smells of alcohol, are you ever sober)_ on Ronan’s lips. Then : “Did you miss me ?” and Ronan hears _do you miss me ?_ and he wants to say something like _who would miss a piece of shit like you_ or _yeah no one I care about was kidnapped recently it’s quite dull_ but he finds that he can’t and there’s this lump in his throat and it takes him ages to say : “I’m sorry.”

He expects Kavinsky to be angry and vomit hateful words on him because he does not want to be pitied and Ronan has no right to feel sorry for him but he just looks exhausted and his voice is almost breaking when he says : “I don’t really want to hear this right now.”

Then he proceeds to lie down while holding Ronan’s arm so Ronan follows and sits atop of him and watches his chest rise and fall and his eyes that follow his every move and he wonders _why did you have to behave the way you did_ and _could things have been different_ and _how did you fucking dare to threaten my brother_. Kavinsky smiles as he says : “I’d do it all again, Lynch. Whatever it’d take to get you interested.”

It’s true, Ronan knows — Kavinsky was sick and reckless and wanted to own things and people, for them to be _his_ (so they wouldn’t go away) and so he would always have tried to alienate Ronan from his friends, and he would always have put Matthew in his car’s trunk when Ronan rejected him, and he would always have tried to take much more than Ronan was willing to give.

 

Now Kavinsky’s flinging off his top and pulling Ronan towards him and kissing him and occasionally biting on his lower lip and no teeth are banged against the other’s and no insults are hissed and Kavinsky’s holding him by the neck and the back of his head and when he lets himself fall back down he says : “Stop wasting our time, Lynch.”

 _It’s not real_ , Ronan keeps telling himself, _he’s not real_ , because how could he believe that the actual Kavinsky would have wanted this, would have wanted him like this, not in a gloomy basement while they were both high, not in a parking lot after a party, not roughly and quickly against a wall or in the back of his car, _why did I make him like this_ , he wonders — he _did_ know him, so why had he dreamed up a boy who would behave like this, look at him like this, fucking fragile like this. _(It’s the guilt, it’s thinking you hurt him, it’s your guilt.)_

He runs his fingers along Kavinsky’s jaw, feels the slight stubble, then the bones of his neck when he throws his head back, the shape of his shoulders ; he follows a vein on his arm, feels his pulse on his wrist, brushes his hands and fingers and fingertips, and suddenly he thinks : _that’s not what Adam’s hands would feel like_.

Then Kavinsky grabs his hands and he’s shaking and there’s something in his eyes like panic and despair and he says : “ _Don’t_ , don’t fucking do this to me Lynch, don’t pity-fuck me and think about someone else.”

Ronan says : “That’s not what this is.”

A _what is it then_ hangs between them but Kavinsky doesn’t ask and Ronan is grateful — which feels extremely odd — because what could he say ; _the dream knows what it is but I don’t_ , he reflects, but doesn’t pursue this train of thought because Kavinsky is tugging at his shirt and his lips are pink and he radiates _need_ and _want_ and although he would never put it into words his whole body is _begging_ for Ronan to give him his undivided attention — to see him, watch him, touch him, hold him, have him.

And Ronan’s anger is nothing but a distant memory now and even when he thinks _I could kill him now, I could break him like he has me so many times_ he doesn’t want to, and when he wraps his hands around his throat he only tightens his grip enough to hear Kavinsky’s ragged breath and see his mouth open to catch it and feel his cock harden under him and then he kisses him and it’s a little like it was in the Mitsubishi or at his place back _then_ but it isn’t, their moans are the same but the meaning has changed.

 

Now they’re hurryingly undoing their belts like the teenagers they are and once the jeans are off they throw their bodies together again and Ronan’s pining Kavinsky down and holding his hands with their fingers intertwined and Kavinsky scoffs at that but lifts one of these aggregates to his face and presses his lips to Ronan’s hand and it’s not because he’s put slightly off-balance that Ronan feels like he’s going to die or worse, wake up, with how painful his racing hearth feels _(why so fast, am I twelve.)_

Kavinsky’s cock is hard and twitching in Ronan’s palm and Ronan knows he’s doing his best not to ask for anything but his pupils are wide and his cheeks red, so Ronan starts opening himself up, but Kavinsky says : “Allow me” and holds his hand up and Ronan takes his fingers in his mouth and then with each new one that gets and moves inside his ass Ronan struggles some more to maintain his dignity until he gives up and it goes something like “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck — Kavinsky — fuck” and it’s not dignified at all.

And when Kavinsky takes them out the way Ronan quickly impales himself on his cock isn’t dignified either but he couldn’t care if his life depended on it and he’s rolling his hips slowly and Kavinsky is _growling_ and jerks his own up sometimes when he’s tired of pretending to be patient and Ronan smiles and groans and his nails dig into Kavinsky’s chest.

Then Kavinsky lifts himself up bending his knees a little and wraps Ronan’s back in his arms and bites on his collarbone and they are a mess of limbs and sweat and called out names and there is no more restraint only a frenzy of touching and grasping, blood pumping in their veins and synchronized abandon. Kavinsky’s stroking Ronan’s dick and Ronan says : “No, no, wait, slow down, just a minute” but Kavinsky does just the opposite, and Ronan comes all over him, and moments later Kavinsky whispers something Ronan doesn’t understand then stops moving, and he breathes in and out slowly, and waits a long time before allowing their bodies to untangle.

 _I’m so fucked_ , Ronan thinks when some clarity’s come back to him.

He somehow still expects the dream to go on as it usually does, and he waits for the pain and the blood and the fire, and the rage and the guilt, for everything to go terribly wrong — like everything wasn’t already _so_ wrong — but nothing happens, and every time he turns his head to check Kavinsky’s still there, eyes closed, arms and legs spread about, messy hair, _messy mind_.

Ronan says : “I’m not sure _I_ ’d do it all again.”

Kavinsky chuckles ; he says : “I was always on the edge. I wasn’t built to last. It was all much less boring while you were there, though.”

Ronan thinks _but if that’s true then why didn’t anything change_ but that’s extremely unfair and he knows it, so he shuts up, and then Kavinsky’s getting up and he says : “I have to go now, princess” and there’s a gun in his hand which he puts in his mouth and he blows his brains out — there’s blood all over Ronan’s naked body —

 

_Fuck this shit._

**Author's Note:**

> Since English is not my native language, feel free to tell me if there are mistakes, or sentences that don't feel right. I hope you enjoyed this attempt at dealing with all the Kavinsky emotions I've been having lately (while lacking the time to write a fix-it fic for the end of TDT and BLLB, but that might still happen some day.)


End file.
